


Fear is a Liar

by VerityGrahams



Series: Pride of Portree - QLFC - Season 7 - Chaser 1 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awesome Molly Weasley, BAMF Molly Weasley, Boggart Dimenson, Boggarts, Death Eater Percy Weasley, Different Dimensions, Everyone is Dead, Fear, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 16:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerityGrahams/pseuds/VerityGrahams
Summary: This is what happens when Riddikulus fails. Molly collapsed on the drawing room floor, now sobbing over her husband's dead body. She had lost her determination and she had lost her fight. She was so engrossed in her grief, that she didn't notice the black creature change form once more. A man in shadowy, black robes, and a hood hiding its face. A cold hand grasped hers and she felt herself being taken away from Grimmauld Place.





	Fear is a Liar

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I do not own Harry Potter
> 
> Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
> 
> Team: Pride of Portree
> 
> Position: Chaser 1 - (Dark World Dimension) Write about a parallel world where the characters worst fears come to life
> 
> Optional Prompts:
> 
> 3\. [Setting] 12 Grimmauld Place
> 
> 11\. [Weather] Cloudy
> 
> 15\. [Colour] Black
> 
> Word Count: 2806 /3000
> 
> Warning: Character deaths, upsetting themes.

Fear is a Liar

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was still as dark and dismal as the Blacks that had owned it. Black was the only way to describe the derelict place; the wood was ebony, and the walls were lined with decadent wallpapers with silver the only highlight, the rest was obsidian with hints of juniper green. The entire house was lavish, but abandoned, uncared for, and above all else, desolate. When Molly was alone, as she was now, she was left with a deep sense of loneliness and fear. The many members of the Order were gone, Sirius was sulking in his room, and the children were at school, so Molly was more alone than ever.

Molly had given the London home a thorough exorcism, but there was still work to be done. Today she was tasking herself with clearing up the rest of the nasties that inhabited the Black residence. She made her way to the drawing room; Remus had commented at Ron's Prefect party that there was a Boggart in the corner desk.

Even as she walked into the room the wooden desk began to rattle and the ornate silver handle twisted and turned as the Boggart struggled for its freedom. She stood, facing the desk determinedly. Molly gave her wand a sharp flick and the drawer opened. The small room was dark, filled with the black formless creature as it analysed its attacker.

Molly was not afraid. When it came to tackling a Boggart, Molly always remembered one thing; '_it's just a lie.'_ The Boggart does not show her anything that is real, there is nothing to be afraid of, just the lack of imagination when it came to making these apparitions comical. She whispered her mantra, '_fear is a liar,'_ as the pitch smoke started to take shape.

Bill lay on the floor of the drawing room, his dark, crimson blood leaking into the lavish rug, likely an heirloom of 'The so-called House of Black.' His hands clutched his throat as he coughed helplessly; Molly could only watched in horror. This Boggart filled her with so much fear she could think of no way to make it amusing, her mind was blank. How does one make the death of their child funny? Bill's eyes were wide and pleading, his complexion was greying, until finally he stopped coughing and his arms fell lifelessly at his side.

"_Riddikulus_," Molly cried, putting everything she had into the spell, desperate to remove the vision of her eldest child. Bill disappeared and Molly sighed in relief.

The Boggart, momentarily stunned, became black and formless once more, but it had not dissipated completely. She had been caught unawares, yes, but now she was ready to face the darkest visions the Boggart could throw her way. As the figure reformed she was tested again.

The new apparition that it presented her with was almost unrecognisable. The pale skin was shiny-red and stretched over a misshapen skull and disfigured face. It was the right shoulder that gave Charlie Weasley away, despite the burns you could still make out the ink of his tattoo: a Hebridean Black.

Molly tried to perform _Riddikulus_ many times, and each time the black figure would reformed and she was faced with the death of another loved one. She watched as Ron had sacrificed himself for Harry, for the war, and in the hope of victory. Harry fell at the hands of You-Know-Who. Ginny begged and pleaded for her mother's help, but the stygian steel dagger that had been plunged straight into her chest would claim her life too.

The worst was Fred and George. They reminded her so much of her brothers; Fabian and Gideon. Fred and George fought back to back, just like her brothers had. They protected each other with their lives, but had been overcome in the end. They lay dying together, and there was nothing that Molly could do. '_Fear is not lying today,'_ Molly thought. '_It is merely showing me the many possibilities.' _The drawing room of Tweleve Grimmauld Place would forever be the site of the murder or death of everyone that Molly cared for—even if it wasn't real.

This is what happens when Riddikulus fails. Molly collapsed on the drawing room floor, now sobbing over her husband's dead body. She had lost her determination and she had lost her fight. She was so engrossed in her grief, that she didn't notice the black creature change form once more. A man in shadowy, black robes, and a hood hiding its face. A cold hand grasped hers and she felt herself being taken away from Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Molly woke. The grip on her arm was strong, and so cold that it burned. As she looked around, everything _looked_ like Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but it was rotten and crumbling, just like everything else. This _was_ Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but there was no ceiling, and above she saw clouds rolling overhead, suffocating her. The entire world had a foreboding atmosphere, the sky was just a visual, something you could point too. Everything here was decaying.

Molly felt a fear that could not be shaken. It had a grip on her, just like the robed man that dragged her through this alternate Grimmauld Place. There was no explanation, he simply pulled her through the house where each room held a fear that Molly had locked away, deep inside her Gryffindor heart.

Remus Lupin knelt on the floor before a different robed man. This man's face was covered, but by the ornate mask worn by Death Eaters. Remus' face was bloody and beaten, and the slashes on his face oozed blood. His body trembled, spasmed; a scream had just died on his lips. It told Molly one thing; Remus had been tortured in the most barbaric way by another pitch-robed man.

"Severus, please," Remus pleaded.

Molly felt a surge of guilt that she was not shocked by the revelation. Severus had been a part of the Order—_was_ a part of the Order. The robed man removed his mask, revealing a pale face, hooked nose and a sadistic smirk.

Molly had struggled to trust the man, despite everything Albus had said. She continued to tell herself, '_Fear is a Liar,'_ but the scenario seemed far to realistic to ignore. She had feared his hatred of Sirius and Remus, his dark past, and she wondered, '_How far would Severus go?' _

"Why should I help you?" he asked in a cold hard voice.

"You are fighting for what is right, Severus. You are part of the Order! You changed!"

"I lied." Severus smirked, and with a flick of his hand, Remus fell lifeless to the floor.

The clouds hung low around the house, oppressive and reminding Molly of how doomed her plight was. Molly knew there was no escape, just like the sun trying to shine through these heavy, oppressive clouds; there was no escape. She was in the Boggart's lair, and even though Remus lay dead in front of the familiar Black Family Tree this was not real, and it wasn't the real Grimmauld Place either. This should have brought Molly hope, but it only brought the fear of being trapped. Suffocated by the clouds,

"Come, there is more yet," the man robed in black said.

His voice was cold, but strangely familiar, and he pulled Molly onward through to the kitchen. The kitchen was her domain, it was one place free of monsters, parasites and fear. The kitchen, however, was not free from the clouds that showed Molly how hopeless life truly was. It wasn't free from the horrors of her worst fears, fears that would certainly come true in this _Boggart realm_.

"Where am I?" she asked, finally addressing the man before her.

"Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," he stated simply.

"How did I get here?"

"This is what happens when someone is captured by a Boggart. The only thing you have learnt about my kind is how to ridicule us and protect your own miserable lives. Did you ever wonder what you were protecting yourself from, Molly Weasley?"

"A Boggart cannot hurt you," she said, as though reciting from a textbook, "they can only show you what you fear."

Thunder rolled and the clouds pressed in all the more, no matter how she tried to be brave.

"Oh no, Molly Weasley. We can do so much more than that. Those that we ensnare we bring here, and we can feed off of your fear until you wither away and die. When you failed to dispel me, I was able to make you my own feast of fear."

"Not if I am not afraid," she replied, her voice full of determination. After all, Molly was determined to find her way home.

"I am a Boggart, Molly Weasley; I know your mind, so you cannot lie to me," the Boggart said with a cold harsh laugh. "I have surrounded you with your darkest fears, everything in this entire world is designed to make you fear. Wasn't Grimmauld Place the perfect choice? Such a lack of love, such foreboding. I feel it, I feed off of it. I feel strong and sustained because you, Molly Weasley, are petrified."

Molly had to fight the fear. She had to beat the Boggart, and so deep in her heart she focused on her mantra; '_Fear is a liar.'_ She ignored the clouds and imagined the sun on her face, '_Fear is a liar.'_

"Fool," he cackled. "I see all! Everything that goes through your mind, your heart, the deepest, blackest depths of your soul. You know that fear is not a liar. You _know_ that now. After all, Fred and George are so likely to fall, just as your brothers did. You know that Ron would willingly sacrifice himself to save his famous friend, a boy who must defeat a wizard who is far superior to him. Bill is on the front lines daily, it is but a matter of time before each and every one of them falls."

"No," she replied weakly, all her strength seemed to have gone.

"You have already seen it. They are all dead here, and there is no escape for you, Molly Weasley."

There was a pregnant pause. The clouds rumbled overhead, closing in, suffocating her. The more her fear grew, the darker they became; shutting her off from all hope.

"Except one," the cold voice replied.

The Boggart took a seat at the kitchen table. It was so normal, like she would put out a plate for it. Her favourite room of the Black's house, the only room that in her reality, she felt safe. He removed his hood, and she saw an ornate silver mask. Slowly a pale freckled hand raised to remove it. What happened next took her breath away, it was worse than anything else the Boggart had shown her.

The man beneath the mask had the same pale complexion as many in her family, a good sprinkling of freckles covered his face. His vivid red hair was neatly combed into place, and he wore horn-rimmed glasses and a haughty expression. He had often been described as looking pretentious or silly, however, no one could call him that now. Percy Weasley was dignified, as he had always wanted to be, but with that came a cold and callous nature. There was a hardness in his bright blue eyes. Percy looked more like a Malfoy than a Weasley here.

"Mother, do you not fear _my_ death?" he asked.

Molly stood, aghast. She had been so afraid for Percy. Afraid of what he would become, but a Death Eater? Had she really feared this?

"Yes, you do," the Boggart spat.

Boggart Percy pushed his mother against the wall of the kitchen; the one room without fear. His cold bony hands pinning her where she stood. Then Percy changed, leaning in he opened his mouth and breathed in, his eyes like blue flames. As Molly's fear grew, he looked more and more satisfied. He siphoned of her fear, draining her of her hope, her bravery and her will to fight.

Lightning flashed and thunder could be heard in the distance. The clouds rejoiced in the victory, hovering over the kitchen, closer than they had ever been before. Molly was helpless, she felt the Boggart sucking; feeding on the last of her strength. She tried to fight, but she knew she could never win. The more he ate the weaker she became.

But Molly was not just any house-wife. She was a fighter, she was determined, she just needed to think her way out of this. Her son, Percy, the monster. It was then, deep in the pit of her stomach that a small bubble of hope rose. '_This is _not _your son.'_ It was a tiny speck of truth that reminded her of something very important indeed.

"Fear is a liar," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Fear is a liar!"

Her strength started to come back to her, and she started to push Percy away. The Boggart stumbled into the table, and the clouds receded, almost as if they too were pushed back by her sudden realisation.

"Foolish woman!" he spat, still using Percy's face, Percy's voice. "Filling your head with grand notions; there is no escape!"

"You are not _my_ Percy!" she bellowed. "There are many things that I am afraid of, and they may very well come true, because we are in a war. But my boys fight for what is right, just like my brothers did!"

"Percy is not on the same path as your boys though, is he?" he asked with a smirk. "Percy's heart is black and corrupt; he is on the side of Cornelius Fudge, Dolores Umbridge. He is so purchasable, just like them. The smallest nudge and he will be in Malfoy's pocket too; he _wants_ to be in Mafloy's pocket. Don't you know how ashamed he is of everything that you stand for? He wants what they have. You know Percy will do whatever it takes to get it."

"No, he wouldn't. Percy will come back to me, because my Percy is a good boy. He is struggling, and he wants to do well, but my son has a pure heart. He isn't rotten, and his heart is not black! I believe in _my_ son far more than I believe you!"

Determinedly she raised her wand, ready to shout out the spell with every fibre of her being. She put everything she had into the one incantation, focused everything on one memory that was so pure, so full of joy, "_Riddikulus."_

Immediately the black oppressive clouds dispersed, leaving a clear blue sky. Through the blackened and rotting walls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place there was an opening, and through it she saw the rough green garden outside of The Burrow.

The Boggart had shrunk down to a much younger Percy. The little boys flaming red hair was far wilder than it was now and his grin spread from ear to ear. In his tiny hands he held a large red Quaffle.

"Come on, Percy. If you want to play with Bill and Charlie, you need to practice." That's when she saw her younger, handsome husband, Arthur.

"Okay, but I got to concentrate!" he declared.

Percy threw the Quaffle, which Arthur expertly caught.

"Well done! Are you ready?"

Percy nodded, a serious expression on his face and hands open, waiting to catch the giant ball. Arthur threw the Quaffle with a little too much force and it sailed right over Percy's head. He watched it with an expression that said, '_What the heck was that, Dad?'_

"Sorry, Perce. That was a terrible throw!" Arthur apologised, running to get the ball.

"Daddy, that was a wonderful throw," Percy said with a sweet and genuine smile.

"Thank you, kiddo," Arthur said picking up the Quaffle.

"Daddy, when you say something nice, even if it's not true, is that called being polite?" he asked seriously.

Molly burst into outrageous laughter. It was one of her favourite memories of Percy. It showed his good heart, how he really wanted to be kind and caring, but also how matter of fact he was; so conscientious of the rules.

The result of such a happy memory—and more importantly the laugher that it brought—dissolved the black clouds completely, and the Boggart dissipated, leaving no trace that it had ever been there.

Molly found herself back in the same drawing room she had started in. The house was still black and desolate, but Molly no longer felt that sense of loneliness. She felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. She knew that fear would only ever tell her lies, and she knew Percy would come back to her.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please read and review
> 
> Feedback:
> 
> Overall I got 7.25/10 and 9 bonus points
> 
> I lost on characterisation, one point was deducted for: Molly's emotions swinging wildly in the Boggart lair, scared and then determined and then back again. I should have shown more of her reactions, which I think takes up more words and I am always pushed for words. I will be going through and adding more as to why those emotions were swinging, and try and change it so it is more 'show not tell'
> 
> Plot - I lost 0.5 for the fact that you do not see the ridikulus charms that Molly is trying to use to defuse the Boggart. This isn't something that I am changing, mainly cause it is based on a situation where Molly was unable to produce that effect, she is unable to do it in the book, and due to what the Boggart turns into. If its good enough for JK, its good enough for me. I think it would change the tone of the story completely, and I think it would ruin it.
> 
> Flow - I lost 0.5 here too. This is due to consistently using commas over semi colons... They reminded me that they are two independent clauses, however, there is more than one way to deal with two independent clauses, and I used a different method to the semi colon on those occasions. coordinating conjunctions are a thing you know! This also is because the last judge told me I used too many semi colons! Apparently I need to get that balance just right.
> 
> Fouls - I got two hits for tense inconsistency - what can I say, its not my strong suit, and I will be going over this for tense asap, and finally a rather foolish mistake, 'too' instead of 'to'. I promise I know the difference!


End file.
